


When We Were Gone Astray

by shaggydogstail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Get Together, Godfather Sirius Black, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, M/M, Raising Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 19:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13060392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggydogstail/pseuds/shaggydogstail
Summary: A brief history of Christmastime with Sirius bringing up Harry.





	When We Were Gone Astray

i. 

Harry’s one-and-a-half, too young to understand the time of year or question why the tree stands undecorated and forlorn in a corner. His blissful ignorance is a mercy, sparing Sirius the sharp pangs of guilt that prickle at him whenever Harry calls him “dada”. He calls him “mama” sometimes too; he doesn’t understand.

Andromeda and Ted pick them up on Christmas Eve, and take care of presents, and food, and decorations, finding ways to make Harry laugh and gently coaxing little Nymphadora away with explanations that Sirius is just tired and maybe he’ll play with her later. No-one says anything when Sirius locks himself away in the study to make a concerted effort at drinking himself into oblivion. Ted mends the broken chair and Andromeda provides the necessary potions without a word of reproach.

Sirius takes Harry home a few days into the New Year, knowing that the fact of Harry needing him is the only thing that keeps him together. Andromeda manages to keep the expressions of sympathy and pitying looks to an absolute minimum, and he’s grateful. Before he leaves she decides he’s not getting off that easily, and pulls him into a tight hug.

‘It’ll hurt less next year,’ she promises, pushing back a lock of Sirius’ hair. They look so alike, sometimes it startles him; seeing Andromeda’s like looking at a better, kinder, more competent version of himself.

Sirius just nods, unable to answer. She may be right – Andromeda usually is – but Sirius isn’t sure he wants to stop hurting. His pain seems like a very small punishment after what he’s done.

~*~

ii.

Harry’s two-and-a-half and still doesn’t _really_ understand, but he’s still giddy with excitement at the lights, the music, and the endless supply of sparkles. There’s a frankly absurd quantity of gifts under the Christmas tree, the sight of which cause Sirius to cycle through various forms of guilt: there’s too many, there’s not enough, he’s spoiling Harry, _things_ aren’t what the boy really needs.

Remus calls around the day before they’re due to leave for Andromeda’s. Sirius has barely seen him since… well, since a long time, even before. He’s brought Harry a present, a Muggle toy dog made of wood. The dog has large plastic wheels that must be set at an angle because it wobbles as it moves, the spring tail bouncing from side to side. Harry is absolutely delighted by it, pulling it around and around the living room before stopping to say a solemn “thank you” to Remus when Sirius reminds him of his manners.

Harry’s tucked up in bed, stuffed to the gills with warm milk and gingerbread elves, before Sirius manages to speak to Remus properly.

‘This is for you,’ he says, handing over a roll of parchment. It’s a contract with Damocles Belby, undertaking to supply Remus with his new potion, the one that people have been talking about for years, though the formula is still a secret.

Remus unrolls the parchment and looks at it for a very long time. ‘This must have been incredibly expensive.’

Sirius shrugs. A fair pile of gold had changed hands, enough to make even Sirius wince, but he’s not about to admit that. He’s afraid that Remus is going to refuse, and he’s not got the energy to argue about it.

‘Think of it as a gift from James,’ he says, which it sort of might be since Sirius isn’t all that meticulous about money. He could kick himself for it, though, remembering belatedly that Remus never shared his willingness to accept James’s money, despite being in greater need. ‘He would’ve liked you to have it.’

It’s kind of emotional blackmail, but it’s true and it does the trick. Remus accepts with quiet thanks and Sirius is sure he will take the potion – Remus hates waste even more than he hates charity. There’s not much more to say, though, and the silence drags on, an ocean of grief and guilt keeping them apart.

‘I don’t expect you to forgive me,’ Sirius says at last, because he has to say something. ‘It doesn’t matter. But you can still be part of Harry’s life.’

‘I do. I did. I haven’t been avoiding you because I’ve been angry. I just… I didn’t know what to say to you,’ Remus admits. ‘But of course I forgive you – I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I didn’t.’

Sirius doesn’t know what Remus is talking about, and his confusion must be obvious, because Remus goes on. ‘I can’t be angry at you thinking I was the spy, because I thought it was you. That seems so stupid now. I keep thinking, maybe if I hadn’t suspected you, I might have noticed what Peter was up to. We were all so frightened, though, so confused… I don’t blame you.’

Sirius keeps on staring at Remus, open mouthed. That wasn’t what he’d been thinking about, not at all. ‘I killed Lily and James.’

‘What?’ Remus looks as confused as Sirius feels.

‘I told them to use Peter,’ says Sirius. His throat is growing uncomfortably tight, making it hard to speak. ‘I as good as killed them. It’s my fault they’re dead.’

‘No,’ says Remus. ‘Oh, Sirius, no, that doesn’t make it your fault.’

He’s looking at Sirius with gentle concern, full of compassion. Remus never could stand to see other people in pain – that must be why he’s avoided Sirius for so long. It would be better, fairer, for Sirius to pull himself together and let Remus go without causing a scene, but Sirius always was a selfish creature. Instead of sparing Remus the burden of his guilt he lets Remus hug him as he cries, spilling tears, regret, and probably some snot onto the scratchy shoulder of Remus’ jumper.

Remus holds him for a long time, stroking Sirius’ back and murmuring soft, soothing words in his ear, much the same way as Sirius comforts Harry when he’s upset. Perhaps he ought to feel a little insulted at being coddled like a child, but Sirius is really very grateful that Remus is willing to offer him more kindness than he can possibly deserve.

~*~

iii. 

Harry is three-and-a-half and bouncing off the walls. He’s constantly on the move, jumping out of bed at ridiculous o’clock and running around, creating chaos like some sort of messy-haired perpetual motion device, until he collapses into a dead sleep on Sirius’ lap before Sirius can make it even half-way through The Tales of Babbitty Rabbitty.

Andromeda was right; it does get easier. Sirius still takes Harry to hers for Christmas, although they don’t stay so long now. Sirius suspects she’s trying to train him into flying solo, like when Ted takes the Stabilising Charms off Nymphadora’s broom. He goes out more now, taking Harry to visit the Patils, Bathilda Bagshot, and even Narcissa.

Remus comes around for Boxing Day, and carries Harry on his shoulders when they go for a long walk in the park, while Sirius enjoys the chance to amuse his godson in dog form, chasing squirrels and rolling in the snow. Harry shouts to be let down and he charges off, gleefully yelling ‘doggy!’ and starting races that Sirius makes sure to let him win. Even so, Harry trips and falls on the ice, utterly inconsolable until Sirius turns back to human and Apparates them home, soothing Harry’s hot, furious tears with cuddles, kisses, and the promise of his thousandth mince pie.

It’s nice, having Remus around again. For a while Sirius had worried that perhaps Remus only visited him out of a sense of duty, because he was afraid that Sirius might turn back into a sobbing mess himself if left unsupervised for too long. Over the course of the year, though, they’ve learnt to relax around one another, to chat about meaningless stuff and take Harry to watch Quidditch. It’s starting to feel like they’re friends again.

Sometimes, Sirius finds himself wishing for something other than friendship. He’s always kind of fancied Moony, for as long as he can remember. There’d even been a time, before, when it seemed like they might get together; they’d kissed a bit, flirted a lot, even got off with each other a couple of times. He’s not sure if Remus even remembers it now, though.

‘I think it’s good that you’re considering a relationship,’ says Andromeda as Sirius helps her mix honey and spices with warmed elf-made wine to make generous quantities of Sweet Goblin’s Gløgg for the Tonks’ New Year’s Eve party. ‘You’re an attractive young man; there’s no reason you should stay single forever.’

Sirius tosses an orange into the air and strips the peel off it with a flick of his wand. ‘Why do I sense a “but” coming here?’

‘Firstly, I think you’re still in quite a vulnerable state emotionally,’ says Andromeda. ‘Remus is your oldest friend, you have a connection already… it would probably only take a quick snog for you to decide you’re madly in love with him. And you’d be crushed if it didn’t work out.’

‘Perhaps,’ Sirius mutters grudgingly, looking away. Sometimes he thinks Andromeda knows him a bit _too_ well; even his secret late-night fantasies about Remus end with more than orgasms. He’s not an idiot, though, he knows Moony’s not about to turn up on his doorstep offering Sirius his heart and a blowjob.

‘Secondly, you could cast your net a bit wider,’ Andromeda continues. ‘Maybe Remus really is the one, or maybe you’re clutching at the nearest available bloke.’

‘You make me sound desperate.’

‘I don’t mean that. But you’re a full-time carer for a small child and most of the adults you spend time with are women or husbands of women you’ve met at Giddy Gremlins. You’d stand a better chance of meeting single men if you tried some non-child centred socialising, or getting a job.’

‘Me, work?’ Sirius scoff jokingly. ‘I’m one of the idle rich, you should know that.’ 

‘Maybe just something part-time, I know you don’t like leaving Harry,’ says Andromeda. ‘But you could afford an army of nannies, and you know Ted and I will always help. You could even work from home. Anything to give you something of your own.’

‘It seems so selfish,’ admits Sirius quietly. How can he complain about his own life when he’s part of the reason Lily and James lost theirs? How ungrateful is it to feel bored sometimes spending every waking hour with his godson when he’s had more time with Harry than his parents ever did?

Andromeda stirs the tureen with her wand, filling the air with the sweet, spicy scent that had always been the best part of their family Christmases. ‘You’re allowed time to be just Sirius, not Harry Potter’s godfather or the tragic war survivor,’ she says firmly. ‘And if wanting a life of your own or a bit of romance is selfish, then there’s an awful lot of selfish people in this world.’

Sirius isn’t sure he’ll ever be anything better than Harry’s godfather, but maybe he is about ready to start shaking off some of the tragedy of war.

~*~

iv. 

Harry is four-and-a-half and full of questions. He wants to know if trees like being taken indoors and decorated, if Santa’s little helpers are regular house-elves or special ones, and why doesn’t Sirius get a flying reindeer like Santa’s? Sirius answers as best he can, glad that Harry’s still young enough to be distracted with a bag of chocolate sickles when Sirius’ imagination starts to fail him.

Sirius has a job now, after a fashion, as a freelance Animal Healer. He treated one of Arabella Figg’s kneazles for feline scrofungulus as a favour, and it had spiralled from there. It suits him for now, interesting enough to catch his attention, not difficult enough to get in the way of caring for Harry. He’s wondering if he might open his own practice when Harry starts school, although Harry at school is a scary enough prospect to stop him making any firm plans.

Remus gives Harry a weebles treehouse, a luridly green plastic affair that is apparently highly coveted by Muggle youngsters – magical ones, too, if Harry’s whoops of delight are anything to go by. Harry insists that Uncle Moony stays to tea, and Remus assures both him and Sirius that fish fingers followed by mince pies with custard is the best thing he’s eaten in weeks.

Fond though he is of Uncle Moony, Harry won’t settle for anyone but Sirius putting him to bed, so Sirius leaves Remus to a glass of wine and the WWN while he cracks on with bathtime and The Very Silly Dragon. When he comes back into the living room he’s pretty pleased to catch Remus snooping, checking out the row of Christmas cards on the mantelpiece.

‘You still in touch with Florien?’ asks Remus, in what seems like a very careful attempt at sounding casual. Sirius had been on a few dates with Florien, one of the instructors at QuiddiKids who’d been in the year below them at school, during the summer. He was a nice enough bloke, but it hadn’t really gone anywhere.

‘I don’t think we’ll be exchanging more than Christmas cards,’ says Sirius. ‘We wanted different things.’

Remus nods understandingly, and Sirius is happy to let him believe that “different things” is shorthand for how lone parents aren’t exactly party animals, when what Sirius really wants most of all is Remus himself. Sirius doesn’t think he imagined the hint of jealousy Remus betrayed when talking about Florien, or the how much more relaxed he seems now Sirius has made it clear there’s nothing between them. It’s enough to make Sirius think that maybe he should tell Remus how he really feels about him.

He’s definitely going to do it. Next year.

~*~

v. 

Harry is five-and-a-half and away on his second ever sleepover. His first night alone at the Tonks’s had been a trial run, with everyone joining in the polite fiction that it was to give Harry the chance to get used to spending a whole night away on his own, and not for Sirius to get over his nerves about letting him go.

Remus turns up on the dot of seven, in what looks like a new shirt and freshly polished shoes. ‘I hope this is alright,’ he says, as Sirius looks him up and down. ‘You didn’t say where we were going.’

‘There’s this nice seafood place I thought you might like,’ says Sirius, trying to sound cool and relaxed, though it’s been a long time since spending time with Remus had made him feel the least bit cool or relaxed. ‘And then maybe The Brumalia. They’ve got this goblin act playing, kind of a jazz thing.’

‘Sounds good,’ says Remus, smiling. ‘I was half-afraid you weren’t telling me because you’d planned something so terrible I’d end up changing my mind and decide not to go out.’

Sirius isn’t worried about Remus not liking the restaurant or the club; he _is_ worried that Remus might change his mind when he realises exactly why Sirius invited him. No-one’s actually used the word “date” yet. Sirius thinks it might be implied in two single people going for dinner and onto a club, but it’s been a while since he had a night out that didn’t involve balloons and face-painting, so he’s not too sure.

‘Oh, so you’d just stand me up if my plans weren’t sufficiently entertaining?’ he says with forced jocularity

‘One thing I’ve never been around you is bored, Padfoot.’

There’s something about the way Remus looks at him when he says it, affectionate with a hint of a challenge, that makes it sound like an invitation. Remus knew Sirius before grief and lone parenting taught him caution, knows how impetuous Sirius can be, and he always liked it. It’s enough to make Sirius stop messing about, dredge up his old Gryffindor courage, and take two quick steps across the kitchen to reach Remus.

‘You do bring out some of my more excitable impulses,’ he says, favouring Remus with what he hopes is a particularly sexy grin. Then, because that’s enough talking, he leans in and kisses Remus, quickly, before he can change his mind. Sirius hadn’t expected to do it, not yet, but it seems like maybe Remus did, because he kisses Sirius back, quickly, eagerly. His hands wrap around Sirius’ neck, fingers curling into Sirius’ hair and gripping the back of Sirius’ head, like he’s holding on tight to keep Sirius from backing away. Which is ridiculous, because Sirius has never felt less like backing away from anything.

The kiss goes on for a long time, a little bit frantic but still tender and affectionate. Sirius hasn’t forgotten any of the furtive bouts of snogging he’d shared with Remus before, but this is better somehow. New, every bit as exciting, and somehow more real.

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ says Remus. ‘I don’t want to go out.’

‘No?’ Sirius blinks, his stomach turning backflips at the way Remus grins back at him. ‘Oh. I suppose we might have more fun staying in.’

Remus doesn’t say anything, just makes a happy little sound at the back of his throat as he pulls Sirius closer to kiss him again.

~*~

  
vi.

Harry is six and too old to count in halves any more, honestly Padfoot, I’m not a _baby_. He’s still excitable as a toddler around Christmas, though, and Sirius doesn’t stand much hope of being allowed to sleep past five a.m. on Christmas morning. An early night might’ve been nice, but there’s little chance of that on Christmas Eve at the best of times, even before he’s had to treat every kneazle, cat, crup, and puffskein in Wales and the South West of England. There’s also the new and alarming task of teenager-handling, as they’re putting Dora up until Andromeda and Ted recover from spattergroit.

When Remus wakes Sirius at 3 a.m. he’s very much of the opinion that someone ought to be, if not actually dead, at least very close to it.

‘The house had better bollocking well be on fire,’ he mutters groggily. ‘Or you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.’

‘Well, it all started when my arsehole boyfriend decided he couldn’t be bothered to write a proper list and insisted that all he really wanted for Christmas was sexual favours,’ says Remus. He sounds even grumpier than Sirius feels. Sometimes Sirius finds Remus’ irritability charming, even attractive. This is not one of those times.

‘So you decided to wake me up in the middle of the night to have a strop about it, knowing full well I’ve slept for about twenty minutes in the last week,’ says Sirius. ‘Fuck’s sake, Moony, you could’ve given me coal instead of sleep deprivation.’

‘You ungrateful shit, I woke you up so I could get you off without Harry interrupting,’ says Remus. He pushes Sirius onto his back and makes a grab for his pyjama bottoms. It’s quite astonishingly unsexy. ‘You’re forgetting that I’ve barely slept for a fortnight because of your genius idea to move house during the Christmas holidays, take in at least at least a thousand stray animals _and_ your cousin’s daughter, and forget to tell me that Harry was bringing his Muggle friends home for tea until I had to Disillusion a fucking hippogriff with about five minutes’ notice.’

Sirius groans loudly, throwing his head back onto the pillow. ‘If I say I’m very sorry will you let me sleep?’

‘In spite of which I very thoughtfully set my alarm for the middle of the fucking night so I could sacrifice precious minutes of slumber just to suck you off,’ Remus continued as though he hadn’t heard him. ‘In light of my frankly astonishing generosity, I suggest you shut your whining and let me get on with it.’

‘Do I get any say in this?’ says Sirius, although if he does the only thing he plans on saying is _sleeee-eep._

Remus lets out an indignant huff. ‘Obviously,’ he says. ‘But if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to lie still while I suck you off and you’re going to bastard well enjoy it.’

Sirius is half-tempted to ask if Remus would be very offended if he nods off again mid-blowjob, but Remus is giving him the sort of dangerous look that suggests any smart comments and he might just bite off something vital as a present to himself while he’s down there, so Sirius says nothing.

It turns out Sirius really _does_ know what’s good for him, because that was absolutely the right choice, and he definitely does enjoy himself.

~*~

  
vii.

Harry is ten going on eleven going on grown up. Sirius still isn’t sure how that happened. He’s spending the day at the Tonks’, being thoroughly spoilt under the guise of writing about their house for his holiday homework. Strange how nervous Sirius had been about sending Harry to a Muggle primary school, only going through with it because of his promise to Lily, yet now he doesn’t want him to leave. He’s actually more worried about sending Harry to Hogwarts next autumn.

‘Put your coat on,’ says Remus, when he catches Sirius casting maudlin glances at the fireplace. ‘I want to show you something.’

Sirius does as he’s told, and Remus Apparates them both to cold, isolated train platform.

‘Hogsmeade?’ says Sirius, glancing around. ‘Why here?’

‘Come with me.’ Remus holds out his hand and leads Sirius away from the platform, through the dense thicket of trees, and down the narrow, winding path to the shore. There are no boats bobbing on the water today, but Hogwarts looks as impressive as ever, perched high on the mountain across the lake. ‘That homework of Harry’s, having to write about a place that’s special to him, got me thinking. This is one of my favourite places.’

‘Because it’s here you first saw Hogwarts?’

‘Partly.’ Remus’ voice is wistful as he glances across the glittering expanse of water before turning back to Sirius. ‘It’s also where I met the love of my life.’

‘I’m sure Hagrid will be very flattered.’

‘Idiot,’ says Remus affectionately. He turns to stand directly in front of Sirius, gazing at him with a degree of affection that never has stopped surprising Sirius. ‘You and James kept trying to shove each other in the water. I suppose it was some sort of bonding ritual for you.’

Sirius laughs, remembering it well. ‘You must have thought I was such a git.’

‘Nah, I was too busy worrying about anyone noticing me to get too judgemental,’ says Remus. ‘I didn’t realise what a git you are till much later.’

‘Cheers,’ says Sirius, with only the vaguest effort at sounding offended. He hadn’t even noticed Remus that first night, and he feels bad about it now. James he remembers like it was yesterday; the memory’s bittersweet now, not gut-wrenching as it once was, and Sirius is grateful for that. There’s so much to be grateful for, starting with the man standing in front of him. He decides to forgo the pleasure of teasing Moony back in favour of planting a soft kiss on his forehead. ‘Love you.’

Remus’ lights up, his face radiant in the winter grey. ‘I love you too,’ he says. ‘Sometimes I wonder if you know just how much.’

There’s no easy answer to that, so Sirius just leans forward, resting his forehead against Remus’. He can feel the warmth of Remus’ breath on his face, mingling with his own and creating misty white puffs in the chill December air. He raises a gloved hand to touch Remus’ hair. ‘I think I’ve got some idea.’

‘I wonder,’ says Remus. He kisses Sirius’ cheek and takes his arm, encouraging Sirius to walk with him along the shore of the lake. ‘Don’t forget, Padfoot, it’s been years since I snuck to the back of the crowd to avoid sharing a dinghy, and I’ve spent most of that time watching you very closely. I know you, and I know when something’s bothering you.’

Sirius doesn’t try to deny it. He can’t keep secrets from Remus, doesn’t want to anyway. He suspects Remus has a pretty shrewd idea anyway, since he brought Sirius here to talk.

‘It’s Harry’s last Christmas before Hogwarts,’ he says, looking up at the mist-rimmed castle. ‘I keep worrying that he’ll either be miserable and homesick, or else that he’ll love it so much he won’t want to come home again next year.’

‘He probably will love it,’ says Remus. ‘That doesn’t mean he won’t want to come home.’

‘I didn’t.’ Sirius keeps staring at Hogwarts, not ready to look back at Remus yet. ‘I know, I know it’s stupid. My relationship with Harry is nothing like the one my parents had with me.’

‘Well, no. For starters, you’re not a fucking sociopath,’ says Remus, making Sirius laugh. ‘Padfoot, Harry adores you, and not just because you’re his godfather and he’s supposed to. You’re kind, and loving, and supportive, and he knows you’d do anything for him. Even Hogwarts won’t make him forget that.’

Sirius nods tightly. He doesn’t think of himself as a particularly insecure person, he just sometimes has a little… wobble. Remus always seems to know how to shake him out of it.

‘Thanks, Moony,’ he says quietly. ‘What would I do without you?’

‘Oh, I think you’d be much the same,’ says Remus. ‘Only with longer fits of melancholy and less sexual satisfaction.’

Sirius laughs again, more loudly this time. ‘You’re probably right,’ he says. ‘Hope I don’t have to find out, though.’

‘Not gonna let you,’ says Remus. He stops walking and stands beside Sirius, his arm around Sirius’ waist and his head resting on Sirius’ shoulder. ‘It is lovely, isn’t it?’

There are lights glinting in the castle now, and a pair of thestrals flying over the Astronomy Tower. It’s still a magical, beautiful place, and Sirius is glad that Remus brought him here to remind him how Hogwarts is an adventure, and that a future filled with possibilities is nothing to fear.

‘One of my favourites,’ agrees Sirius, hugging Remus a bit closer.

‘But not your actual favourite?’ says Remus. ‘What’s that?’

‘Home,’ says Sirius. He hadn’t thought of it until he said it, but the truth of the statement fills him with warmth. ‘Our house.’

“Home” is a former farmhouse on the outskirts of Trefynwy. It’s a large, ramshackle building, extended by magical and non-magical means to house Sirius’ Animal Healing practice, a study for Remus to write lesson plans and catch up on marking, and a specially Charmed lawn where Harry can practice Quidditch without being seen by passing Muggles. There’s also a collection of lines on the kitchen wall to mark how Harry’s grown in the four years since they moved in, a greenhouse containing Andromeda’s favourite Raucous Roses which make Ted sneeze something terrible, and a spare room for when Dora is feeling particularly teenager-ish.

Remus clearly approves of his answer, as he grabs Sirius for a long, sweet kiss. ‘You know, I’m going to miss Harry as well, but there are some advantages to having the place to ourselves,’ he says. ‘And he won’t be back from the Tonks’s for hours.’

‘Oh.’ Sirius notices that Remus is moving against him in a very enticing manner. ‘It is pretty cold out here. We could go home and warm up in front of the fire.’

Remus grins at him. ‘We could fuck under the Christmas tree.’

It ought to be the set up for a flirtatious comment or a dirty joke, something about getting pine needles in intimate places, but for once Sirius can’t think of either. A fierce surge of emotion wells up in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him with just how much Moony means to him, how they seem to have more to celebrate every year.

‘You’re brilliant, you know,’ he manages at last.

‘Reckon I must be. Pulled you, didn’t I?’ says Remus. ‘C’mon, let’s go.’

Sirius relaxes into his embrace, ready to let Remus Apparate them both back home. The sadness may never leave him completely, but it won’t overcome him either, not while he has Remus beside him to share a life, and a future, that has all the comfort and joy Sirius could wish for.


End file.
